Once the Christmas lights go up, the Valentine’s Day hearts come out, a turnover most visible when shopping in stores after January 1^st. Even websites feature pop-up ads far too early, enticing Internet explorers with “V-Day sales” while echoes of “Happy New Year!” still rings in the ears of those hungover from the festivities. 

Visual signifiers such as these peer through every storefront window and threaten to emerge from each subscriber-based email we open. They coax us into thinking that the closer we grow to Valentine’s Day, the less opportunity we have to show that special someone in our lives how much they mean to us. A meaning best conveyed by the size of the price tag. 

With such pointed marketing—preying particularly on young couples convinced that if they do not wow their partners on February 14^th, they could spend the rest of the year’s holidays single—the cynical outlook commonly adopted towards Valentine’s Day is well supported. 

As someone who views Valentine’s Day positively despite its more consumer-driven agenda, I have found the secret to enjoying the cinnamon-sugar-coated parts of the day instead of dreading its sourness. The secret involves unlearning the belief that romantic love is the only love worth celebrating. 

Every other form of love is a given; our families love us unconditionally and good friends follow suit, but romantic love is constantly growing and needs to be well fed to do so. Hence why Valentine’s Day chocolate is sold at full price and becomes significantly cheaper the day after, indicating a missed chance at celebrating romance. 

I have learned that love is most prudent in the air when I celebrate all the relationships I am grateful to have in my life at the moment. With this philosophy, Valentine’s Day can be spent celebrating romantic love with one’s partner, but can also become a time for familial love, love for one’s friends, and even a day for self-love.

In the past, I have celebrated the friend Valentine’s Day where I invited people over for a winning combination of corny Netflix movies and Chinese takeout. Turning such a get-together into a tradition could create excitement for the upcoming date, rather than apprehension about feeling isolated due to your lack of dinner reservations for two. 

I have also celebrated Valentine’s Day by myself. You can carry out the day, business as usual, then come home to indulge in some self-care: treat yourself to chocolate, light a candle, and turn on an episode of Gilmore Girls to let the fictional town of Stars Hollow engulf you in its comfort. Spending time alone can be recuperative, healing, and a rarity, so I have learned to enjoy it as best I can.

Last year I spent Valentine’s Day working. I worked at Demetres Cafe which exclusively sells desserts, so it is without surprise that come post-dinner hours, restaurant orders filled up. After packing red velvet after red velvet cake for Uber orders and going through enough strawberries to field a small farm, I was truly rocked by the commodification of Valentine’s Day. 

However, this was not as miserable as it sounds. Once the storm of orders had calmed, I was able to look around and feel mutual appreciation for the team I was working with. I had also felt a new appreciation for myself and confidence in my ability to work for so long under such pressure, a small success amongst the misery of being a minimum wage, part-time employee. I learned that even a Valentine’s Day spent ladling coulis on cheesecakes can be filled with its own, unique kind of love.

My goal in retelling how I have spent the holiday in past years is not to bore readers, but to share the truth that while spending the day with big plans celebrating romantic love is great, it is not the be-all and end-all of Valentine’s Day happiness. 

I think back to where it all started, for me at least, writing the names of classmates and family members into the Shrek scratch and sniff Valentines my mother begrudgingly allowed me to give out at school. 

I think of the small traditions that have stuck with me on Valentine’s Day, such as my mother ordering a heart-shaped pizza from our local shop for dinner and cheekily showing us the box, expecting surprised reactions every year. 

It is gestures and memories as small as handing my grandmother a heart-stickered “I love you” note that fill my Valentine’s Days with meaning and joy.

Now I work at a party supply store where it is impossible to ignore the commercially driven aspects of Valentine’s Day. Although, it would be insincere of me to write that I do not glance at the Valentine’s Day balloons and gush about how darling they are to coworkers, already plotting what I can bring home for my family when the day arrives.

It is moments like these where I come face to face with the commercial takeover of Valentine’s Day that my annoyance subdues and my excitement picks up. Just like with Christmas, but with the added pressure placed on romantic love, one can enjoy Valentine’s Day products and decorations for what they are: shameless exploitation of the holiday for sure, but also pleasantly pretty items that can be used to make the day as festive as one desires.

If I have done my job successfully, it should be evident now that Valentine’s Day for me has always been about finding love everywhere and anywhere and celebrating what I have. It would be hypocritical of me to prioritize romantic relationships now over friends, family, and especially myself. 

This year I will not be spending Valentine’s Day working. Instead, I will be celebrating a romantic relationship. This does not change the importance one should place on celebrating other types of love in addition to romance.

I still anticipate my mother’s opening of the pizza box and ritual “Will you be my Valentine?”, and while the tradition of giving out said valentines to my classmates has left me, I still look forward to sending my friends love via text messages or phone calls. I am excited to spend the day romantically as well, not to investigate what the hype surrounding the romantic aspect of Valentine’s Day is, but to just spend time with a person whose company I especially enjoy.

There is no right or wrong way to celebrate Valentine’s Day and I feel that the pressure and guilt one feels on the holiday is what creates feelings of isolation and loneliness. Despite its pressure, I also do not wish for people to treat Valentine’s Day as just another day. With so little opportunities to enjoy oneself in the seemingly never-ending COVID years, I ask people to take advantage of any day which allows for some celebration.
If nothing else, I would like for readers to put aside a little extra time on February 14^th to show compassion for those they love, especially themselves. This is how I have come to enjoy Valentine’s Day.